The Escapades of Bruce Wayne and Selina Kyle
by Jak Pickens
Summary: A collection of all the crazy antics that the Baby Bat and Cat got up to during Bruce's two month stay with Selina in the Narrows. (Season 2 aka. the Best Season) (BrucexSelina)
1. Pilot: Day Zero

**A/N: Welcome, one and all, to my new Gotham series, **_**The Escapades of Bruce Wayne and Selina Kyle**_**! Like I've said in previous posts, this series will be a collection of interconnected oneshots. Some of these will be multipart events with several chapters, but most will be singular stories set at an unspecified time in the timeline (between December and February). Like I've said before, I've been kicking this idea around in my head for almost a year now, so I'm really excited to finally bring it to life. **

**I'm gonna make a promise here that I probably can't keep and say that I'll post at least twice a week, although that means that the chapters for this series will be shorter than the ones for my other series **_**Roles Reversed**_**, which you should totally check out after this if you haven't already.**

**I think that's all the introduction this series needs. So without further ado I present you the pilot chapter of **_**The Escapades of Bruce Wayne and Selina Kyle**_**. Hope you enjoy!**

**Pilot: Day Zero**

Selina slipped into the alley from behind a dumpster.

Bruce was standing there. His eyes were jumping around the alley at the slightest movement, and he seemed paler than normal, but he wore a hard-headed, determined expression.

"Hey," she greeted, approaching him and casually reaching into her coat pocket. From it she removed a small revolver, fully loaded with live rounds, the safety on but unreliable. She hated guns. Sure, she used them on occasion, but this was Gotham.

Bruce simply stared at the weapon, hands glued to his sides.

"What?" she asked. "You asked me for it."

"I know–" he replied apprehensively.

Selina shook her head. "If you don't want it…" she started, already moving to put the gun back into her pocket.

"I want it," he stated firmly.

She stared at him. "You look scared."

"I'm not," he replied, sticking out his hand for the gun. His hand was visibly shaking and she could see the fear in his eyes. She should've just said no, taken the gun back to her place and gotten rid of it. But this was what he wanted.

Who was she to stop him from seeking revenge?

She shook her head and placed the gun firmly in his palm.

"Is it loaded?" he asked.

"Ain't no point in an unloaded gun," she retorted. "Guns aren't for show, Bruce. They're dangerous."

He nodded. "Of course. They're only good for one thing."

He turned, throwing a small thank you over his shoulder, and stalked off. She watched him go. She should've stopped him, but she didn't.

She didn't intervene when he needed her to.

That was the second time she'd done that.

The first time, her hesitance had gotten his parents killed. This time…

* * *

She tried to go about her day as normal, but her mind was somewhere else. She kept her ears on the streets, waiting for the news to be broken that Matches Malone was dead.

It eventually came, just not how she'd expected it to.

Suicide.

Malone had been found by Jim Gordon in his apartment, surrounded by alcohol, a gun in his hand, and a bullet in his mouth.

Selina didn't know what disturbed her more: Bruce killing Malone and making it look like a suicide, or it actually being a suicide…

What could've happened? Bruce had a gun, which she'd made sure was cleaned and loaded properly. It should've gone off without a hitch, unless…

Unless Bruce Wayne decided to be noble, to do the "right thing", as he called it.

Her cell phone buzzed in her pocket, causing her to jump in surprise.

When she looked at the number, relief washed over her like she'd never felt before.

"Bruce?" she asked into it.

"Hey, Cat," he responded. He sounded exhausted.

"Are you okay?" she asked apprehensively, realizing how dumb of a question it was as she said it. Of course he wasn't okay. Whatever had happened, his parents' murderer was dead. On some level, that must've meant something big to him.

"I need a place to stay for a while," he replied, ignoring her question. "Can I stay with you?"

She was very concerned now. Had he done it, faking the suicide? She'd been on the run from the police before, but this was different. Murder was not something cops played around with.

"Sure. Yeah, yeah, of course," she answered hastily. She paused. "Bruce, what's happening? Are you okay?"

The other end went so silent for so long that she started to think he'd hung up on her. "I'll meet you at the 9th Street overpass on the East Side," he stated.

She nodded. "Okay, I'll be there." She went to hang up, but hesitated, taking note that the other end hadn't gone dead yet. "Stay safe," she said softly.

Several seconds later, the line went dead.

She took a deep breath, trying to collect her thoughts. She wasn't going to jump to conclusions. Whether he'd killed Malone or not, he needed her help.

And no matter how many mistakes he made, she'd be there.

She owed him at least that.

* * *

She'd only been standing under the overpass for a few minutes when she saw him approaching, eyes on the ground, dressed in dark colors and a large backpack slung over his shoulder.

As he got closer, he glanced up at her and her heart caught in her chest.

It'd been just twelve hours since she'd last seen him, but he looked like a completely different person. He looked so much older, his face sunken and expression grim.

But his eyes hadn't changed. The endless fire inside them was still there, maybe with less intensity than before, but still burning.

He joined her by the bum fire she'd lit, warming his hands. It was the start of December, but winter had come late that year. The temperature was just now dropping; the wind which used to be pleasant was now biting and sharp.

Things were changing, but, just like always, she'd adapt.

Adaption was all she knew.

Bruce gave her a weak smile. She nodded and turned away from the fire, walking along the railroad tracks towards the city.

They didn't talk much on the way into the city, which she was thankful for in some ways. She didn't know what'd changed in Bruce exactly, but she knew she didn't like it.

Finally, they arrived outside an abandoned apartment building, the all windows boarded up or darkened, the structure itself falling to pieces.

"Home sweet home," she muttered, leading him up a rickety old fire escape and entering the third floor hallway through a window. "Front door doesn't open, whole second floor is covered in jagged glass, and the stairs between the second and third floors are knocked out," she told him.

He nodded. "Secure place."

She hummed in agreement and entered one of the rooms. She got a little self-conscious at the appearance of her small, shabby apartment. The room was cramped, had low ceilings, the floor boards were uneven, the windows partially boarded up, the tiny couch was old and in tatters, the fridge needed to be cleaned a decade earlier, and the only artificial light in the room was a dusty lamp which only worked half the time. Still, she shrugged and told him, "Make yourself comfortable. Your room's right over there."

Bruce nodded and opened a door that led out of the main room. The bedroom was even smaller than the other one, but it'd obviously been cleaned up, and quite recently at that. He threw his bag onto the cot, which took up ninety percent of the space, and went back into the living room.

Selina had kicked off her shoes and turned on the television.

"I'm gonna go to bed," he told her.

She nodded absent-mindedly, keeping her eyes on the television. "Yeah, sure, goodnight."

He turned to his room, but paused. He turned back to her and started, "Selina…" He stopped until she looked up at him, which she eventually did. "Thank you," he told her, "for everything."

He started to go back into his room, but she couldn't leave it there. She had too many questions. But one of them stuck out among the rest. "Did you kill him?" she asked quietly. He stopped dead in his tracks, but didn't respond. "Tell me you didn't kill him and I'll believe you, but I need you to tell me that you didn't do it."

Bruce was frozen on the spot, his back turned to her. Selina knew she was being invasive, but she had to know. She wouldn't be able to live with herself if she'd let Bruce Wayne become a killer, to get blood on his hands. On some level, she knew that he hadn't done it. But _he_ had to say it.

Bruce turned to her, looking her right in the eye as he said it. "I didn't kill him. I couldn't. He shot himself after I left."

"Then what are you doing here?" she asked pointedly. "If you didn't do anything wrong, what are you running from?"

"I'm not running," he responded defensively.

"Then why are you here?"

He sighed. "I'm here because I need to know how you do it. How people like you do it."

"Do what?" she asked indignantly. He wasn't making any sense.

"Deal with stuff like this," he replied. "How you don't become monsters as a result."

Selina shook her head. "So, you want to what? Study people like me?"

He shrugged. "I guess, so. Yeah."

Selina stared at him. He was holding something back, she knew it. "You've been to the Narrows before," she started. "It's not like you haven't seen criminals in real life."

"So?" Bruce asked, seeming even more uncomfortable.

"So I call bullshit," Selina replied bluntly.

He shook his head in exasperation, and then gave a heavy sigh. "I just…need to get away from it all," he told her.

She scoffed, saying, "You were literally just in Switzerland for a month. How much more time do you need?"

Bruce shook his head, again. "That's not what I mean. It's not Gotham that's the problem. I need to get away from Bruce Wayne," he stated. "And this," he continued, gesturing around to the small, shabby apartment Selina called home, "this is the best way I know how."

She cocked an eyebrow, asking, "Well, if you're not Bruce Wayne, who are you?"

He shook his head with a light smirk. "That's what I'm here to find out, if you'll let me stay, that is…"

She rolled her eyes. "I'm not gonna kick you out, B," she told him. "Well, not yet, at least."

He smiled, the first one she'd seen from him in a long, long time. "So, are we done with the interrogation?" he asked mockingly.

She scoffed in annoyance, but nodded.

He gave her a curt nod and bow, saying, "Then goodnight, Cat," and whisking off into his tiny bedroom.

"G'night, B," she responded quietly as the door shut. She shook her head, muttering, "Dramatic much?" and turning in for the night, as well. A weight had been temporarily lifted off of her shoulders, but it had been replaced by another one just as quickly.

He was no longer 'boy billionaire Bruce Wayne'. In fact, she wouldn't even call him Bruce, anymore. He was a street kid, just like her.

In a way, she was a bit nervous to find out who he was without the persona and nicknames and labels she'd given him.

Would she like what she found underneath all of that?

Either way, she was in charge of him now. She'd show him the ropes, teach him how 'people like her', as he called it, survived in Gotham without becoming worse for it.

Tomorrow was going to be a big day for him, she'd make sure of it. If he really wanted to know who he was without the money, without the name, then she'd make sure he found out, the easy way or the hard one.

However, if it was up to her, it'd preferably be the latter path.

**A/N: I hope you enjoyed! Like I said previously, I'm gonna try and update quite frequently, at least by my usual standards, so make sure to favorite/follow so you don't miss my next upload. Also, please tell me what you think about this new series in the Review section! Your feedback is what I write for, after all. And if you have prompts or ideas for Escapades for these crazy kids, please let me know. I want this series to be a long one but I can only write as much content as I can come up with, so your help would be very much appreciated!**

**Thanks for reading and ciao for now!**


	2. Day One

**A/N: Thank you all so much for all the love and support on the first chapter! And an extra special thank you to those who commented prompts for future chapters! I'll be doing every single one of them, eventually. For now, though, here's Chapter Two! Hope you enjoy!**

**Day One**

Bruce woke up early the next morning, light pouring into the small, cramped room he'd been sleeping in.

He shot up in bed, frantically looking around in a moment of confusion and panic.

This wasn't Wayne Manor…

The memories of the day and night prior surged into his mind, and he sighed, relaxing back onto the tiny, uncomfortable mattress.

He was in the Narrows with Selina. She was sleeping right next door. He was safe.

Well…as safe as you could be in the worst part of Gotham.

He rolled out bed, his back stiff and head aching, and changed into clothes for the day, the same outfit that Selina had given him back during his first visit to her world. Granted, it was all really small on him, but it was the only outfit he owned that didn't make him look like Bruce Wayne.

Because, for now, he _wasn't_ Bruce Wayne. He was just a street kid, nameless, free.

Maybe he could even get a nickname, although preferably something cooler than Selina's. Sure, the name 'Cat' suited her, but it didn't exactly strike fear into the hearts of whoever heard it. He'd get something cool and vicious-sounding, like Mad-Dog or Reaper. If he was completely reinventing himself, then why not have some fun with it?

After struggling with the zipper of his two-size too small jeans for a solid five minutes, he waddled out of his bedroom and into the main living area. It didn't look much better in the light than it had in the dark the night prior, but a few things stuck out to him on his second look around.

Mainly, there was a table with two chairs set up against the only window in the whole place that wasn't boarded up. It was tiny and a little dusty, but elegant nonetheless, and it was clearly the most expensive thing in the whole apartment.

He threw his jacket onto the back of one of the chairs and went to work in the kitchen, using the carton of eggs and pancake batter that he'd brought with him from the manor to fix up breakfast. It wasn't exactly on par with Alfred-level standards, but it wasn't horrible, either.

He made two plates of scrambled eggs and pancakes, and set them out on the table.

It was already past nine o'clock in the morning, _way_ later than Alfred would've ever let him sleep, so Selina would probably be waking up any minute now. So, he decided to wait to eat until she joined him.

So he waited.

And waited.

And waited.

An hour later, her bedroom door was still shut, and his will was starting to break.

And fifteen minutes after that, he was rinsing off his plate in the sink, taking the second plate and covering it in saran wrap. She could heat the food up in the microwave if she wanted it.

He slumped into the small couch and turned on the TV, mildly frustrated at his wasted attempt to do something nice for her. He'd just have to try again later.

Half an hour later, her bedroom door was still shut.

He glanced at the clock, seeing that it was a quarter past eleven, now. He was tempted to go check on her, but could he do that? Alfred had all but banned him from stepping a toe into her room while she'd stayed with them in the manor, but did those rules apply here?

Then, the front door opened.

"Oh, good, you're up," Selina greeted as she walked briskly into the apartment. "Get ready to go out in a few."

"W-w-where were you?" Bruce spluttered in indignation and surprise.

"Out, doing stuff," she replied vaguely as she opened her bedroom door. "I'll explain later just be ready in five." And with that, she slammed her door shut and Bruce was left to ponder how much of an idiot he felt like.

* * *

Five minutes later on the dot, they were walking out of her apartment, climbing through the hallway window and out onto the fire escape. Surprisingly, Selina climbed down to street-level, not up to the rooftops like he'd anticipated.

"So, Selina," he started, "where are we going?"

"Rule number one," she called over her shoulder, "don't call me that. Around here, I'm Cat. Got it?"

"Sure," Bruce replied. "So, Cat, what am I?"

"You?" Selina asked, stopping dead in her tracks and turning to face him. "What do you mean?"

Bruce shrugged, feeling the blood start to rush to his cheeks and ears. "I don't know, I was just wondering if I needed a nickname, too. Ya know, since we don't use our real ones here."

Selina shook her head, responding, "Rule number two: stuff around here is earned, not given. You want something? Work for it." She smirked mischievously, saying, "So, until then, I'll just call you kid or whatever."

He rolled his eyes and she started off towards the inner part of the Narrows, Bruce following close behind her.

After walking a few blocks, she randomly turned left into an alleyway and ran up the wall, grabbing onto a fire escape and hoisting herself up. She didn't wait for him to follow, already three stories up by the time Bruce had hoisted himself onto the lowest platform.

Bruce started to say 'Slow down!' but stopped himself.

She was testing him, seeing if he could still keep up with her.

She wanted him to earn the right to hang with her? Fine. Then he'd earn it. He'd done it once, so he could do it, again.

He took off after her, closing the gap to a single story between them.

She took a glance down at him for a split second and saw that he was smiling like an idiot. "What's up with you?" she called as she reached the rooftop.

"Nothing," he replied, reaching the rooftop a few seconds after her. She was halfway across, sprinting towards the edge of the building. "I just missed this," he called as she leapt across the gap, landing on the other side, but stumbling and ending up flat on her butt. Bruce kept going, leaping across the gap and landing in stride. He put out a hand to her and she shook her head with a smirk, taking it.

"Oh, please, kid. You ain't seen nothing yet," she told him before taking off towards the next edge.

"Ya know," he called over the roaring winds as he chased after her, "calling me kid all the time doesn't really make sense, since I'm taller than you, now."

"Are not!" she called over her shoulder.

"I am too!" he yelled back. "And if you stopped for a second, I could prove it!"

"So why the hell would I stop?" she retorted, running even faster.

He smirked, picking up his own pace to match hers. They'd been running southeast for a couple of blocks, and he was starting to get an idea of where they were headed.

Sure enough, she randomly turned right, slid down a broken clothesline to the ground, and walked across the street to a large abandoned warehouse.

Although, the word 'abandoned' didn't exactly suit the building anymore. As soon as Selina opened the doors, blaring punk-rock music slapped them in the face.

The Flea: the mall for street kids.

"We gotta get you out of those," Selina told him, eyeing his outfit and then looking up at him. Key word there: looking '_up'_at him.

Bruce smirked victoriously. "I told you I got taller."

"I never said you didn't get taller," she replied. "I said you aren't taller than me."

Bruce cocked a confused eyebrow, starting, "But I am taller than y–"

She kicked him in the shin, hard.

He doubled over, holding his throbbing lower leg. "Why would you do that?!" he cried.

Selina smirked, standing next to him and using her hand to create an imaginary horizontal line above their two heads. "See, I told you I was taller," she said coolly before turning away and strolling deeper into the warehouse.

Bruce sighed and walked off the pain, following her into the Flea.

It was a slow day at the Flea, only a few dozen occupants in the huge storehouse. Selina led him to the back corner where aisles and aisles of clothes racks lined the walls.

"Pick out whatever you want," she told him offhandedly as she went to inspect a girl's clothing rack. "You're paying for it, though. You do have the money."

Bruce nodded, deciding not to tell her that he'd only brought a single hundred dollar bill from the manor, for this purpose. However, he hadn't brought another cent with him. If he wasn't Bruce Wayne, then he couldn't use Bruce Wayne's money.

Besides, that was his whole point for being there: to see who he was without the money.

He looked around for a bit, eventually settling on a pair of dark jeans, a long-sleeve grey t-shirt, a big, baggy, black army jacket, and a pair of black combat boots like the ones Selina wore.

He changed into the new clothes in a dressing room. He stared in the mirror, knowing that he looked completely different, but still felt the same. All he saw was Bruce Wayne in street clothes.

He glanced up at his hair and had an idea.

He messed it up thoroughly, his long, black locks going every which way. Once it forgot its shape and form, he flipped the top's direction, making it go left instead of right. It was a subtle difference, but a noticeable one, his hair now hanging slightly down in his face. Alfred would've had a heart attack, but he liked it.

After getting his clothes situated the best he could, he took a deep breath and stepped out of the dressing room, expecting a storm of laughter to erupt from a short, blonde girl with piercing green eyes.

It never came. Instead, Selina's eyes went wide for a moment and she stuck out her bottom lip, nodding approvingly as she circled him. "Nice," she stated simply. She paused for a beat and then held up a small, feminine leather jacket, asking him, "What do you think?"

Bruce eyed it for a few moments, and then earnestly replied, "I think it'd be a little small on me."

She gave him a stupefied look, trying to tell if he was kidding or not. "It's not for you, stupid!" she chided. He knew he blushed hard, but he didn't care. That storm of laughter he'd been expecting a few seconds earlier? It arrived. She was almost rolling on the floor laughing, and, although it was at his expense, the sight was totally worth it. She eventually calmed down enough to choke out, "On _me_. What do you think of it on _me_?"

Bruce furrowed his brow, replying in deadpan, "It'd probably fit you, ya know, since you're shorter than me."

She rolled her eyes and sighed in exasperation, but her smile ruined the attempt at an annoyed look. "Whatever, I'm buying it."

"I'll pay for it," he blurted out before he could stop himself.

She stared at him, her piercing eyes narrowed. "Nuh-uh," she replied. "I can buy my own clothes," she told him. "I may be poor, but I'm not _that_ poor."

He spluttered out, "That's-not-what-I-meant-I-know-you-can-afford-it-it's-not-that-I-didn't-think-you-could-just-that-you've-done-so much-for-me-and-I-figured-it'd-be-a-nice-thing-for-me-to-pay-for-it-since-I-have-the-money-and–"

She held a hand up to cut him off and he came up for air. "Fine," she relented, tossing him the coat. "But just this once, B."

"Yes, ma'am," he replied, saluting her with a satisfied smirk.

She rolled her eyes and walked off towards the counter, muttering, "Billionaires…"

Only later would he realize that she'd called him B, not kid or something else patronizing. Names were earned, not given. That day, he'd proved to Selina Kyle that he wasn't the street-smartless, sheltered, terrified kid she'd brought to the Narrows to protect over a year ago.

Now, he was a full-fledged street-kid, look, nickname and all.

And if using every last cent he owned to buy Selina a leather jacket had proven it to her, then it was absolutely worth it.

**A/N: Like I said earlier, your guys' support on this series means the world to me. I'm having an absolute blast working on this project and it's all thanks to you! I hope you enjoyed and if you did or have any questions/comments/critiques about this series or one of my many other works, please make sure to Review! Also, if you have any ideas or prompts for future adventures for these two crazy kids, anything at all, **_**please**_** let me know and I'll make sure to write them (although there are limits for what I will and won't write). And if you haven't already, make sure to Favorite/Follow so you don't miss my next update! Thanks for reading and ciao for now!**

**For my **_**Roles Reversed**_** readers, a new chapter will be coming out sometime this week (possibly on Thursday night but idk). **


	3. High Bars and Hard Falls

**A/N: Sorry for the delay in new chapters! School is hell right now, but I'm almost to Spring Break so I'll be able to post a bit more often. In the meantime, here's chapter 3! Hope you enjoy!**

**High Bars and Hard Falls**

Keeping up with Selina had become more of a challenge as of late.

Bruce had only been in the Narrows for a week, and she'd already abandoned any thought of holding back with him. If she wanted to go somewhere, she'd go. If he could keep up, he could tag along. If not, if he lost sight of her, he'd just have to go home and wait for her to return when she was done.

That'd already happened twice, and he was set on never letting it happen again.

After the failed breakfast fiasco a few days prior, he'd figured out that Selina never slept for more than a couple of hours, sprinkling in cat naps through the day instead of being awake all day and then sleeping in the night.

Every morning when he woke up, she was already gone, sometimes not returning until the last hours of the afternoon.

So, he set out to copy her.

And surprisingly, he was quite successful at it. At least, for the first couple of days.

Whenever she took a nap, whether it be on a park bench or in her apartment, he would, too. It actually helped him avoid his usual nightmares, so much so that he felt more rested after a half-an-hour nap than he did after a fitful attempt at eight hours of sleep.

And the best part of all: Selina seemed to notice. She started telling him where she was going instead of just walking out without a word. Hell, she even woke him up once or twice when he out-slept her.

'So what?' you may be asking. Who cares if he changed his sleeping patterns? What difference does it make?

Long story short: It made a big difference.

Here's the long story:

It was the fourth day of his new sleeping pattern. Selina left the house at two-thirty in the morning, set on getting reconnaissance for a possible job.

He was still sprawled out on the other couch, which they'd recently gotten after he moved in.

She rolled her eyes and shook him awake. "You comin' or what, B?"

He sat up and wiped the sleep from his eyes, muttering, "Yup, I'll be right there."

She scoffed and went to put on her boots, the ones with the padded soles.

Bruce shook his head, trying to clear it for the mission ahead. He had to be at his best, especially for something as dangerous as this. But he was so tired…

Still half-asleep and his head and body throbbing, he forced himself into a sitting position. He stared off into space as his tied his shoes, not really watching what he was doing. He would later regret that.

In the moment, however, he was purely focused on not being left behind, again, even if it meant getting little-to-no sleep.

Selina finished lacing up her combat boots. "Ready?" she asked.

He nodded groggily. "As I'll ever be…" he mumbled.

She paused, giving him a long, piercing look. "You look like hell."

"Thanks, Cat. I appreciate it."

She rolled her eyes. "You know you don't have to come with me, right? I can do this on my own."

"I'm sure you can," he replied, shoving himself up from the couch to his feet. "And I'm just as sure that I'm coming with you."

She gave him another long look. He looked tired as all hell. But, if he wanted to come, it's not like she could say no…

"Fine. But if you get caught, it's not on me," she told him in finality, blowing past him to the front door.

He followed after her, attempting to run but quickly realizing he was too tired. So, he fast walked out of the apartment.

He hit his head on the windowsill while slipping out onto the fire escape. It hurt like hell, but it momentarily jarred him from his semi-conscious state. He had a moment of clarity, wondering, "Is this really a good idea?"

Then, Cat started running up the stairs, and he left any reasonable thoughts he might've had in the dust.

He chased after her, his body sore and weak, but chugging along anyways. The stairs were hell. His chest clenched up and he retched two times before he reached the rooftop of Selina's apartment building. Something was seriously wrong…

She was already several dozen feet in front of him, and gaining more and more ground as she ran. If he couldn't keep up, then she'd just have to leave him behind for both of their sakes.

She knew how hard he was trying, but if he couldn't cut it then he needed to stop trying to. And if she had to leave him behind to show him that, then so be it.

It was for his own good.

At least, that's what she thought before everything went wrong.

She ran towards the edge of the building, eyes set across the gap to the ledge where she'd land. Of the four buildings surrounding her crib, the one she was running towards was the farthest away by several feet. She'd only made Bruce do this jump once before, and if the fire escape hadn't been there, he would've fallen five stories to the pavement below.

He knew how dangerous it was, and if he couldn't make it, he would stop.

This was her filter. If he felt well enough to attempt it and make the jump, then he was well enough to go on recon with her.

She should've just stopped him.

Instead, using the same tough-love tactics that she'd been raised with, she'd let him discover his limits for himself. She wouldn't tell him no. If he wanted to do something, he could try. And if he failed, then he learned where his limits were.

Funny thing about Bruce Wayne: he seemed to believe that he didn't have any limits.

Bruce labored after her, watching as she gracefully leapt across the gap, landing in stride and continuing to run.

He had to keep up with her…

He took as deep a breath as he could and then ran towards the edge of the rooftop with a full head of steam. He'd learned firsthand that you couldn't hold back with this gap. If you didn't fully believe that you could make it and commit to the jump, you would come up short every time.

He ran as fast as his body would allow him, which was much slower than usual. He felt like his head was on fire, his legs feeling heavier and heavier with every step he took, his feet like lead weights. As he got closer to the edge of the building, the lights of nighttime Gotham seemed to dim.

Five more steps…his racing pulse was throbbing in his ears.

Four more…his chest felt like it was about to explode.

Three more…he had to focus, to not get left behind again.

Two…his vision felt narrowed, the corners of the picture going black.

One…something was wrong.

Selina was nearing the next gap. She didn't hear his footsteps behind her, so he probably stopped. It was almost a relief, if she was being honest. When she'd told him he looked horrible, she hadn't been lying. His skin was paler than usual (which was a very difficult feat to accomplish) and his eyes had been somewhat bloodshot.

She decided to take a quick glance over her shoulder, just to make sure he wasn't following.

Her heart stopped.

She didn't see him.

Neither on her current roof, nor the roof he'd been on, and nowhere in between them.

He'd simply vanished.

Then, she heard the crash.

She came to a screeching halt and turned on her heel, sprinting back the way she'd come, muttering, "No, no, no, no, no, oh God please, no…"

She reached the edge of the building and scanned the gap. For a few panicked moments, she couldn't find him. The road was clear, a single taxi cab passing by but otherwise empty. The fire escape of the building she was on was void of anyone.

She looked across the gap at the other fire escape.

In a matter of a second, her heart leapt with relief and sunk in dread.

He was sprawled out on the floor of a fire escape, two stories down from the rooftop, his wrist bent in a way that it shouldn't have been able to.

* * *

When he came to, he was back on the couch in the living room, his head still throbbing but his wrist in even greater pain. He didn't know what time it was, but there was light streaming in through the semi-boarded up windows.

He tried to sit up, and the whole world went sideways.

"Don't," Selina stated from the kitchen. Her back was turned to him, so he had no idea how she knew he was sitting up, but there were a lot of things he didn't know about her.

He grunted in pain and laid back down. "What happened?"

She scoffed. "'What happened' is that you're a total ass," she chided, turning around from the stove with a bowl of soup. "Why didn't you tell me you were sick?"

He tried to shake his head, but was met with another wave of pain and nausea. "I didn't know."

"That's bull," she stated, sitting down on the coffee table and setting the bowl down next to her. "I told you not to follow if you couldn't."

Slowly and painfully, he forced himself up into a sitting position. "And I had to follow because I could," he replied.

"You had a hundred-and-three degree fever. And then you fell down two flights of stairs and broke your wrist," she listed, cocking an eyebrow.

He smiled weakly. "You do have a point."

She rolled her eyes with a huff. "Well next time, take care of yourself. Cause if you're not at a hundred, you're a liability," she told him bluntly.

"You're really building my confidence, there," he joked.

"I'm serious, kid. I can take care of myself."

"I know you can."

"Then why'd you go tonight?" she asked.

"Because I have to keep up with you," he answered, his eyes showing just how earnest he was being.

She narrowed her eyes, anger coursing through her body. "You're an idiot," she stated, barely-contained rage starting to seep into her voice and eyes.

He looked scared and confused. Why was she getting so mad? "Wh–" he started, but never got the chance to finish.

Selina was fuming. "You piece of absolute–" (**A/N: I can't include what she calls him here if I want to keep a T rating. I know what she says, and she's pretty creative with it, but I'll leave it to your imagination.**)

He cringed.

Her pulse was pounding in her head and her ears were blood red with anger. "Don't you ever, _ever_ use me as an excuse for getting yourself hurt, you understand?" When he didn't respond, she told him, "If you haven't noticed, kid, I've been doing this for a lot longer than you have. So, yeah, there's no way in hell you're ever gonna keep up with me. And if you don't figure that out, you're just gonna get yourself hurt again, and I'm gonna have to be the one to clean up _your mess_!"

"Sel–" he tried to start, but she was on a roll now.

"Don't interrupt me," she threatened. He went even paler than before. "Nine years, I've lived here. You've been here for a week. And yet you acted like you could keep up with me, so I let you try, and here you are. What would've happened if you hadn't passed out before you jumped, huh?" she pushed.

Bruce sensed a shift in tone, less anger and more…

"What would _I_ have done if you jumped and didn't make it?" she asked.

Bruce simply stared at her, his mouth opening and closing noiselessly, like a fish out of water. "Selina…" he started hesitantly. When she didn't yell at him, he took it that it was his chance to speak. "I'm sorry. I should've said something."

"Damn right," she agreed, her walls going back up as her tone returned to its usual, sarcastic, angry self, the…fear retracting. That was it, the emotion she'd momentarily let slip out. Fear.

"But I didn't, because I _wanted_ to keep up with you," he told her. "I know that I can't, but I wanted to try, anyways."

"Why?" she questioned.

"Because I'm here to push myself," he answered. "I set a bar I'm trying to reach, and you're that bar. Like you said, I'm not there yet, I'm not even close. But you're wrong about one thing," he stated, looking her dead in the eye.

She raised an eyebrow in response to his challenge. "And what am I wrong about?"

A small, mischievous smirk danced at the corners of his mouth. "You said I'm never gonna keep up with you," he said. "And you're wrong."

For some reason, a smile started dancing at her lips, as well. "Oh, yeah? You think you'll catch up to me?"

"No," he started, his small smile disappearing and being replaced with total-seriousness, "I'm gonna pass you, someday."

She rolled her eyes. "Right. Well, good luck with that, kid. But in the meantime, your soup's getting cold." She handed it to him and teased, "Do you want a juice box with that? Maybe some crayons, too?"

"Shut up," he muttered, although his smirk broke his attempt at looking annoyed. She stood from the table and went to clean up in the kitchen. "Cat," he called hesitantly.

"Yuh-huh?"

"Thank you."

She gave him the stink eye, muttering, "Just eat your damn soup."

Bruce grinned. His wrist was dying and he felt like literal crap, but at least he had someone to take care of him. But this was why he chose to live with Selina. She'd push him to his limits, and he could afford to go over them because she was there, just in case.

Because Selina Kyle may've had no limits, but Bruce Wayne sure as hell did. And because she was there, he could afford to know them.

**A/N: I hope you enjoyed! Like I said before: Sorry for the absence of chapters on this series, as well as on **_**Roles Reversed**_**. If all goes well, I should have a new **_**Roles**_** chapter posted tomorrow, but we'll see. If you have any suggestions for new chapters of this series, please let me know! And if you have any comments/questions/critiques, make sure to review. Anyways, that's all I got, so thanks for reading and ciao for now!**


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